Remember
by PimpMasta Popo
Summary: "It's been a while, Major Mustang. Do you remember me?" Did he remember her? How could he forget her? [Royai]


Disclaimer – Don't own it, just love it.

AN: That line always bothered me, so I wanted to explore what was going on in Roy's head when she said it.

 **Remember.**

"It's been a while, Major Mustang. Do you remember me?"

Did he remember her? How could he forget her? He'd tried, God knows he'd tried. The girls he used to forget her in Central, in the Academy, in Isvhal, never fully took her off his mind. While at his foster mother's house on his breaks from his studies, he would dream she was there with him in her pretty white sundress. Back then his only problem was how to hide his growing affection for her.

At the Academy, he used other girls to take his mind off of her. They were always brunette (he couldn't stomach looking at a blonde the same way he looked at her) and were always gently let down the next morning. Most of them got it, as they saw the far away look in his eyes when he was finished. One even called him out on it. _I don't know who you wished was here, but it sure as hell isn't me_ she'd said. He had said nothing, just gathered up his clothing and headed back to his dorm room.

Sometimes instead of drowning himself in other women, he'd attempt to drown himself in alcohol. Hughes was his favorite drinking companion in the Academy days. Mostly because the more the man drank, the happier he got. It was a blessing to be around someone who didn't sink into depression after one glass of whiskey. Hughes kept the memory of her at bay when they went drinking. The problem occurred when he returned to their shared dorm room and he threw himself on his bed. He would close his eyes and see flashes of caramel eyes and shining gold hair. On the rare nights he allowed his mind to wander to her, he remembered only the good times. He remembered how shiny her hair was and how it felt as he ran his fingers through it. He remembered how a shocked _Mister Mustang_ escaped from her lips, but she didn't attempt to push his hands away. Closing his eyes, he remembered how his lips felt on hers, hesitant and questioning.

Ishval had changed everything. The cups of swill the infantry called alcohol burned his throat in an unpleasant way, but he still forced it down. Hughes, his safety valve, his buoy, had somehow found his way to this hellhole as well. It had changed him too. Instead of swapping stories and jokes, they sat silently around the fire, downing cup after cup of the poor excuse for whiskey some corporal had cooked up. Alcohol no longer made Hughes a babbling fool - it just made him more morose. That hurt Roy more than he cared to admit. While drinking one night, he made eye contact with PFC Adams, a pretty woman he'd spent the night with a few weeks back. She smiled at him and he'd stared blankly at her before nodding his acknowledgment. _Who is she?_ Hughes had asked, his green eyes burning a hole through him. He had shrugged and answered flippantly, but Hughes would have none of it. _No, not her._ His head had jerked in the direction of Adams. _The girl who you wished she was. The one you were hoping to see._ Roy had finished his alcohol quickly then and bid goodnight to his friend.

He never let himself think about her in Ishval. It was hell on Earth and she didn't belong there. She didn't belong in the sand, amid the blood and screams. But his mind didn't always acquiesce to his wishes. He dreamt of her one night when things were so bad he considered deserting. They stood at the train station, her eyes refusing to betray the hurt and anger he could sense in her. But he knew her too well. He knew her better than she wanted to admit. Their years together in that house with no one but each other (because it had been years since her father spent any time with her) had inexorably pushed them together. He'd learned to read her, and she him. They learned to communicate with glances. He could see the miniscule changes in her demeanor and that meant more to him than anything. She was his first real friend and it hurt him to leave her. She'd bid him a curt farewell as the train pulled into the station. He met her eyes and found fear and anger in them as the train let out a low whistle, announcing its arrival. He promised her over and over that he would return. Left unspoken was that he would return a better man, one deserving of her trust and her love. Her arms were across her chest, projecting indifference, but he knew her better than that. _I'm sorry._ That got her attention. Her eyes flashed in rage and she sneered at him. _No you're not._

The dream ended there and he woke with the weight of her disappointment in his chest. It took several minutes for his heart to stop pounding. _That wasn't real._ He repeated it over and over until his heart rate had slowed. She hadn't said those words to him. She hadn't looked at him with anger. He ran over the truth in his mind. She had grabbed his hand and squeezed at the train had pulled up. He'd glanced at her in sorrow, trying to convey that he'd be back. She had understood him without words, as she always did. He'd leaned down as the train pulled in and sounded its arrival. He kissed her hoping she got the message. _I love you._ The pink tinge on her cheeks and the look in her eyes conveyed that she had read him loud and clear, like always. That pale morning had been one of his most treasured memories of her. But Ishval had a way of twisting his memories of her into nightmares.

That morning he let himself think of her. He replayed the memory in his head a thousand times and went onto others. He let himself think of her naked back and the secrets it held. He remembered as her shirt fell from her shoulders and the secrets of flame alchemy were revealed to him. He stared at her for a moment before closing the distance between them, turning her around and embracing her tightly. He kissed her bare shoulder and felt her tremble. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._ Her hands grabbed fistfuls of his coat. _I missed you._ He didn't remember if they'd said those words aloud or if their meanings had been made clear through their actions. He only remembered holding her until she'd stopped shaking. 

After that, he willed himself not to think of her, lest Ishval ruin another memory.

Pushing her out of his mind, he didn't inquire further about the new sniper on the front. He didn't register that the nickname of the marksman was The Hawk's Eye. Surely if he'd allowed his mind to wander, it would have settled on her and how she tried to teach him how to aim at rusted cans in her backyard.

He turned around when he heard footsteps behind him and his heart plummeted. Bile rose up in his throat and his heart hammered in his chest. _Not her. Please God, not her. Please be a nightmare. Please, God, this can't be real._ Her eyes were dull and lifeless. They held no resemblance to the expressive ones he'd left on the train platform that day. She didn't spare a glance at Hughes.

"Do you remember me?"

How could he forget?


End file.
